Le Jour de Gloire est Arrivé
by MissFiyerabaMeponineSherlock
Summary: Sequel to One Towards the Other. Enjolras raises the child that Marius and Eponine left behind, but can he continue to do so with a revolution on the rise?
1. Chapter 1

**So I thought I should probably start writing this, so here it is... Also, I feel like you should know that it took me like 4 hours just to write the first sentence XD**

**I would like to thank Caligirlsd99, PhoenixAgent97, and Maelee C for helping me with the plot. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Misérables, nor do I own the characters.**

Love is a peculiar thing, is it not? There many different forms of love. There's the type of love found between friends, which is a plutonic love. There is, of course, the type of love that is found between lovers. There's sibling love; there's love between man and dog; there's love for a certain cause. But nothing can match the love that a father feels for his daughter. This type of love is truly magical, though so is every other type of love. Words cannot express this type of love. Words can't express the depth of the love, the strength of the love, the selflessness of the love. Most fathers, and yes, I do say most and not all, would do anything for their daughter. Fathers want their daughters to be happy at any cost, they would do anything for their little girl, for their daughter will always be their little girl. That is how they always see them, even on their wedding day. A father protects his daughter from the cruelties of the world, yet must not completely shield her from them. A father loves his daughter with all of his heart. It was a fatherly love that Enjolras felt for Epona-Mari.

Though Enjolras was not Epona-Mari's real father, he was as good as. He had raised her literally since birth. He had fed her, clothed her, and taken care of her. He loved the child dearly. She was the only thing that remained of Enjolras' best friends, Marius and Eponine, who were Epona-Mari's parents. They had died the day she was born, her mother having only lived long enough to smile at her once, and her father dead long before she had even been born. Both were killed by Eponine's father, Monsieur Thenardier. He was the reason why Epona-Mari would never know her parents. As well as the reason Enjolras and Epona-Mari had moved away from Paris. Paris held too many bad memories for Enjolras. They lived in the Cherbourg-Octeville, which was about 21 hours away from Paris; 21 hours away from where Eponine and Marius were buried. Enjolras brought Epona-Mari there every week, normally on a Sunday, with them leaving Saturday night. It was there, in front of their graves, that Enjolras would tell her stories about her parents. He would tell her about how they met (Marius had recounted it to him once before), how her mother had loved her father for so long without him even knowing (Marius had been to only one who hadn't known), how they had both disappeared from his life for many years until they were reunited. He would tell her about how they fell in love, how the three of them, her parents and Enjolras himself, had lived together for a while. But he would not tell her anything about the night they died, the night Epona-Mari was born. It was simply to painful for him to talk about and, he felt, Epona-Mari just wasn't old enough. Even now, when she was 13 years old, Enjolras thought her too young.

Enjolras and Epona-Mari lived pretty tame lives in the Cherbourg-Octeville. Epona-Mari had a few friends, and even a best friend, a girl a year older than her named Maelee Rioux. The two of them were inseparable. They had some similarites; both were smart, friendly, and at times, sarcastic. But it was their differences that brought them together; where Maelee could be rather strange, Epona-Mari was more normal (not that she couldn't be strange at times), or where Maelee tended to be unemotional on the outside, Epona-Mari wore her heart on her sleeve, even in height they were quite different: Maelee was of average height and stature, where Epona-Mari had always been rather small. Both had brown hair, though Epona-Mari's was a rich dark brown with hints of red, and Maelee's was an ashy brown. Maelee had brown eyes, and Epona-Mari had her father's bright green eyes. Epona-Mari had the same olive-tone skin as her mother, and Maelee was rather pale. They were more different than they were alike, but, as they say, opposites attract.

Despite living so far away from Paris, in June of 1847, Enjolras had begun to hear of the banquets held by reformists of all shades, where they drank toasts to _La République Française, _or to _liberté, _or _egalité. _Enjolras could already guess what was to come: revolution. And this time the people would rise. And not only France. All of Europe was on the verge of revolution. Enjolras recognised the signs. He had always wanted a free France, but he knew very well that when Paris started to revolt, it would be dangerous. As much as he wanted to be there when it happened, he couldn't just leave Epona-Mari. He considered leaving Epona-Mari with their house keeper, Éléna Boudoire, a kindly young woman with creamy olive-toned skin, long brown hair, and dark brown eyes. She had been their house keeper for a few years and Epona-Mari had grown quite attached to her. Enjolras had even written to one of the reformists (he had, whilst he and Epona-Mari were in Paris and while Epona-Mari had been sleeping, heard of her address), expressing his interest in what he knew was an upcoming revolution. He received this reply:

_Monsieur Enjolras,_

_There is to be a banquet next Saturday night, at sundown, at No. 7 Rue de Voltaire._

_We can discuss your interest in the revolution then._

_Vive la France,_

_Claire Boulôt_

Enjolras made plans to leave for Paris the Friday before the banquet. Epona-Mari, he decided, would stay with Éléna (who normally accompanied them to Paris) while he went to the banquet. He would listen to their plans and would then decide whether or not he should take part in the revolution. He would not do it if it seemed like it would be unsuccessful, if it meant that he would more than likely die. Years and years ago, before Epona-Mari was in his life, then he would have revolted no matter what, but now things had changed. Now he had something to live for, someone to live for. He couldn't abandon her.

Friday night, as they were in the carriage on their way to Paris, Enjolras found himself watching Epona-Mari. He found that she looked particularly like Eponine that night and, though the fact that Eponine was dead hurt, he thought that it was fitting. Eponine had been in the last revolution, though she wasn't supposed to have been, and her daughter would, no doubt, soon hear of the upcoming revolution. Enjolras knew that he could not let her anywhere near the revolution. Even if it seemed extremely likely that the revolution would succeed, he could not allow her to go near such dangerous things. He could not let her get hurt, he had promised Marius and a dying Eponine that he would take care of Epona-Mari, that he would protect her.

Epona-Mari noticed him looking at her and smiled slightly. She even had Eponine's smile.

"Is there something wrong, papa?" she asked him, looking at him with child-like innocence.

"No, no," Enjolras assured her, "it's just that... you look a lot like your mother right now." he said. Epona-Mari smiled a bit wider. She liked to think of herself as her mother's child. She had heard many stories about her mother, about how free-spirited she was, or about her loyalty, her kindness. She liked being compared to her mother, it made her feel close to the woman who had given birth to her, but who had never had the chance to know her. Enjolras noticed a lot of similarities between Epona-Mari and her parents, like when she tried to read a book that was much too difficult for her, something Eponine had frequently tried to do. Or when she would talk about the lawfulness or unlawfulness of something, that was when he would compare her to Marius. Epona-Mari, like her father, had a lot of freckles, though they were mainly visible in the sunlight, that was when she resembled Marius.

At around midnight, Epona-Mari fell asleep, her head resting against Éléna's shoulder. Éléna smiled slightly and then looked at Enjolras.

"You know what's to come, don't you, Monsieur Enjolras?" she asked quietly.

"_La Révolution Française._" Enjolras replied simply.

**I hope you liked it! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! So here's the next chapter. It will feature some Meponine (through Enjolras' memories and dreams), which you'll probably see quite a bit of.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Misérables, nor do I own the characters.**

_Eponine laughed as Marius did an impersonation of Enjolras. _

_"For Patria!" Marius exclaimed dramatically. Enjolras watched as he continued to 'act like him'. Even Enjolras had to admit that it was rather amusing, even if the joke was at his expense. More importantly, it had made Eponine laugh, which she hadn't done since the confrontation with Montparnasse. _

_"Oh, Napoleon Buonaparte is the greatest person ever!" Enjolras said in a rather accurate impersonation of Marius. Eponine laughed at that too. "Napoleon was a hero and was completely flawless!"_

_"Liberté, egalité, fraternité!" _

_"Napoleon, Napoleon, Napoleon!"_

_Both Marius and Enjolras began to laugh with Eponine. It was one of those laughs that lasted for awhile, long after the joke had passed. It was a laugh that allowed them to just let go, to temporarily escape from the darkness that clouded their lives, that temporarily freed them and raised their spirits. Sometimes, even on the darkest of days, one just needs to laugh. Sometimes, that is all that is needed to brighten a day._

Enjolras woke when the carriage hit a bump. It was still dark outside, he guessed it to be around two in the morning. He checked his pocketwatch, which confirmed this. He looked at Epona-Mari, who was still asleep with her head on Éléna's shoulder. Éléna had fallen asleep as well, though this did not surprise Enjolras. It was, after all, two in the morning. The carriage slowly came to a stop. Enjolras stepped out and found that they had reached a small inn.

"We are in Caen right now. The horses need to rest, Monsieur." the coachman told him. The horses had been pulling them for close to 7 and a half hours, of course they would need to rest. "An hour should be enough for them." Enjolras handed the man a five-franc coin.

"Buy them some oats and water. I'm sure the owners of the inn will have some." he said. The coachman nodded and walked into the inn. Enjolras decided to stay up for a little while, enjoying the silence of the night, broken only by the occasional loud laugh or shout from someone in the inn. It was a beautiful night. The stars were shining, the moon was bright in the night sky. It was a cool night, but lovely nevertheless. Enjolras, however, had difficulty enjoying it. It reminded him too much of the night that his two best friends had died. That night, too, had been a starry one, with the moon brightly shining. He tried not to think about it, the memories were simply too painful. But that was not the only reason that he could not enjoy it. It was also the morning–though very early in the morning–of June 6th. It marked the 15th anniversary of the failure of the revolution of 1832... and of the deaths of his other friends. That was another reason that they were heading to Paris; not only to visit Eponine and Marius' graves, but also to visit the graves of the fallen revolutionaries.

The coachman soon returned, followed by a rather large woman who was carrying a bag of oats and two buckets. Enjolras barely concealed his gasp upon seeing this woman– it was Eponine's mother.

Madame Thenardier put the two buckets down in front of the horses and filled them both with oats. As the horses started to eat, she looked up at Enjolras. She didn't seem to recognise him, but she noticed the look of shock on his face.

"Is there something wrong, Monsieur?" she asked him.

"You... you're..." Enjolras was almost too surprised to form words. "You were her mother..." he finally choked out. Madame Thenardier's eyes widened, but she didn't seem to notice that he had used the past tense.

"You know my Eponine?" Madame Thenardier asked. Enjolras noticed that she used present tense, as if Eponine had not died. "How is she? Is she okay? I haven't heard from her in so long, though, I suppose she has a good reason for wanting to keep her distance. I wasn't exactly the best mother. I regret that now... But she could come visit now. Her father is gone, I think he got himself killed. He left one night and never returned. The Patron Minette probably turned on him. I don't really miss him. I've been doing alright without him, moved out of Montfermeil and bought a nice inn, here in Caen." Enjolras didn't know what to say. She... she didn't know. She didn't know that her daughter was dead. "I do hope that Eponine's been doing well. I've been worried about her. I really do love my daughter. I may not have always showed it, but I truly do love her. I guess it took thinking I'd lost her for me to realise how much I do." Enjolras considered lying to her, considered telling her that Eponine was just fine. But he knew he could not do that.

"You really don't know...?" he asked, though he knew full well that she didn't.

"Know what?"

"Eponine... she's..." It was hard for him to say, she had been one of his best friends. "Eponine is dead."

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

"She... she can't be dead..." Madame Thenardier whispered.

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. Eponine is dead, she has been for 13 years." Enjolras had to fight to keep his voice from breaking. Tears formed in Madame Thenardier's eyes.

"How?" she asked quietly.

"Your late husband killed her. He shot her in her side... the bullet must have hit something... and she died a few hours later." Enjolras replied. Then, after a moment, he added, "And it was I who killed your husband."

"Oh God..." she whispered, tears falling from her eyes. "My daughter is dead... What about that boy? The one that she was in love with, Marcus, was it?"

"Marius." Enjolras corrected her. "He, too, is dead. Killed by your husband."

"Oh God... They're both... Oh God..."

"There's one more thing you should know,"

Madame Thenardier did not reply to this, but merely looked at him.

"You have a granddaughter."

**She's back! And she may or may not end up with a larger role in this story. Also, you can probably expect more of Enjolras' dreams or memories of Marius and Eponine. So, yes, there will be some Meponine in this story.**

**I now have a blog for my account. In it, I will talk about future story ideas, current stories that I'm working on, and you'll probably get some sneak-peeks. If you wish to follow me on tumblr, my tumblr name thing is missfiyerabameponinesherlock . tumblr . com**

**Also, please check out the new poll on my profile page. It's regarding one of my future stories, Behold the Night That Falls, which centres around the attack on Rue Plumet.**


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